Popsicle Blues
by sirducklumps
Summary: Picture this; a hot summer day, Sherlock, and a popsicle.   JohnxSherlock one-shot


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sherlock. I will most likely never own it, and I'm glad that I do not. It would be a mess in my hands.

**Fandom:** BBC Sherlock  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> There's gay in it, some kissing, language, indecent thoughts and minor crack.  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> SherlockxJohn  
><strong>Author's note:<strong> I was given the prompt "Okay, picture this. A hot summer day. Sherlock. A Popsicle." and I wrote this very quickly. It's ridiculous and unrealistic (I don't even thin the British call them popsicles) but I don't care. It was fun.  
>Enjoy and review!<p>

* * *

><p>It was abnormally hot in London that day. Sherlock had chosen to leave his coat back at the flat, but his usual long trousers and blazer remained. He didn't look bothered, but John felt like his skin was melting and he was wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt.<p>

The man must be sweltering.

"Sherlock," John spoke up, finding his voice in his dry throat. "Sherlock, let's stop for ice cream or something." He was starting to pant, he would like something cool in his mouth immediately.

Sherlock looked over and John noticed the thin sheen of sweat over the man's face. Check-mate.

"Fine," Sherlock responded, unable to hide his relief at the idea of a cool treat. The detective whipped out his mobile, clicking away as they walked. Curiously, John tried to peer at what his flatmate was doing until finally the phone was slipped back into a pocket and Sherlock was off with a purpose.

John assumed he found somewhere that sold ice creams.

It was a small ice cream parlour and as they walked in they were instantly greeted with the sweet air conditioning. Sherlock shed his coat immediately and laid it across a seat in a booth before strutting up to the counter. John followed tentatively, looking around at the place. It was adorable, beautifully decorated. Pastels dominated the colour scheme and everything in the place looked soft and plush and welcoming.

"John!" His attention returned to Sherlock who was looking at him with a little smile on his lips. John blushed minutely before hurrying up to his friend.

"Order what you like." The detective said, his tone abnormally sweet.

John lifted a brow before looking back at the menu. "I believe I would like one root beer float. Thanks." He smiled kindly at the elderly woman who was giving the two men that look that both recognised as the "what a sweet couple" look. Neither bothered to mention their platonic relationship, even as the woman wished them a good date with an innocent wink.

They both sat down, all smiles. Oddly enough, John felt completely comfortable in that moment. With Sherlock, decent ice cream on a sweltering day and such a lively, wonderful place. He was actually sort of happy for once.

John sipped delicately at his float as he glanced around the shop, finally noticing Sherlock and his treat.

It was certainly a sight. The lithe man had his lips wrapped around the gourmet popsicle, eyes distant as his tongue lapped up any drips. Every so often he would hum in appreciation of the thing, licking all the way up it as if rewarding it for being so damn good.

John didn't notice he was dripping ice cream on the table until Sherlock locked his gaze and lifted a questioning eyebrow.

Collecting himself, the good doctor cleared his throat, shoving the now mostly melted spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, his cheeks surely red. Why had he been staring like that? Why couldn't he stop? And why couldn't he get the image of Sherlock licking that damn popsicle out of his head?

Swallowing thickly, John reserved himself to his float and his float only. Not allowing his gaze to drift up to his friend practically blowing a dessert. And blowing it well.

Yes, he definitely had to stop.

However, he didn't. He found himself slowly looking up, only to find Sherlock in various sexual positions with his popsicle which was, surprisingly, still intact. Perfectly. A little melted, but the man hadn't even bitten into it.

Biting his lip, John refused to admit that the entire scene unfolding in front of him was more than a little arousing.

It wasn't as if that was the first time he'd found his flatmate attractive. The man practically saved him from killing himself, how could he not have at least a little hero-worship-turned-sexual-desire? Still, this was going a little too far. He could deal with having to snuff out the urges, but when Sherlock was mouth-fucking an ice cream, John simply couldn't handle it.

After a particularly sexual slurp from the base of the thing to the tip, John rolled his eyes and with a frustrated grunt, he leaned forward and pulled his flatmate into an odd, crushing kiss. When he sat back again, there was only amusement where John assumed there would be shock and disgust.

"I was wondering how long you were going to last." Sherlock drawled, biting heartily into his popsicle. "I've noticed small indications of your attraction towards me in the past several months, John. I wanted to perform an impromptu experiment to confirm my suspicions."

The popsicle was devoured in several bites and John was so shocked, he had to put down his spoon and rub his eyes and even subtly pinch himself, just in case.

"Turns out, I was right. Just as I had expected."

Suddenly, there were cool fingers against John's skin, jolting him into reality again. When he looked back up at Sherlock, the man was much closer and his eyes showed amusement and a hint of relief. "And good thing, too. I was starting to consider giving up."

And suddenly they were kissing again, but it was nervous and sweet and John could taste that goddamned popsicle and it was delicious.


End file.
